"As a child I thought if I could touch the sky I could touch the face of God. As a man I learned that all I had to do was touch my own heart"
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The Call of the Mother



The Feminine is finally receiving Her due. No longer is she content to remain hidden in deep forest caves with her ways honored in darkness. Many now hear the call of the Mother, not in opposition to the Father, but in full balance and respect. The way of the heart, of the nurturer, of the soft green moss, of the sweet rainfall on the forest floor, of the newborn calf, of the mourner’s cry, of those who have been silent, of those who heal, of the mother and babe and the old man on the brink of death.


Without the Feminine rising,  the Masculine would destroy everything it has built. Alone, it lacks the wisdom to sustain itself and its creations. All around us the temples of the mind are crumbling. Can you not hear the cold stones as they crash upon the earth? And the Mother flows through the desolation, nurturing her earth with the greatest compassion, as new forms emerge that serve life, and balance is restored between heart and mind.